


A little red book

by ylc



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance?, Some Pining?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley knows he shouldn’t keep reading, but he can’t help himself.<br/>It might turn out for the best, though.</p>
<p>My contribution for the GO Exchange 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little red book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/gifts).



> So, here's my gift for the GO Exchange 2015 for thekeyholder, the prompt was: "Aziraphale/Crowley. One day, Crowley finds Aziraphale's diary. It turns out that the angel has some not very... innocent thoughts about Crowley. Wouldn't it be "unfortunate" if Aziraphale caught Crowley reading his darkest secrets? Please, please, include diary excerpts!"  
> I can’t write smut to save my life, so I did the best I could!

It starts innocently enough.

Crowley is simply looking for a book in the backstore. He’s not even doing it on his own volition, the angel asked him to look for it. Later, much later, he’ll ask himself if it was a deliberate move on his friend’s part, but for now, he’s just innocently looking for a book while Aziraphale tries to scare off yet another customer.

Mortals these days seem more persistent for some reason.

As he goes through a bunch of scattered papers and curses the angel’s tendency to hoard things, he comes across a little red book.

It looks inconspicuous enough. Not a single reason for him to peek into it, really, but something about it makes Crowley want to open it and read it. He can’t explain this strange urge, but he’s never been one to deny himself his urges so…

It doesn’t occur him he might be breaching his friend’s trust. It certainly doesn’t seem like he’s priving into his privacy.

It’s just a little, unremarkable, red book.

It’s a diary. Crowley feels like giggling like a schoolgirl, because it’s a diary. The angel keeps a diary! And isn’t that the most silly thing ever? Why would an immortal being keep a diary? What would he care to register? They’ve lived far too long, days and weeks and years get all mixed up, they don’t really matter. Sure, some dates are significant, but for the most part-

Time means nothing to them.

So why bother with a diary?

This requires further inspection. He closes the journal and hurries to hide him in the inside pocket of his jacket, deciding to check it later.

He’s just curious. Nothing else.

At least not in the beginning.

***

_ Went for dinner with C. It was lovely, as ever, which of course only makes things more awful. I sit there, watching him eat and drink and talk and laugh and I wonder if he finds himself staring at my lips a little too much, wondering what it would be like if his hand came to rest over mine over the table. _

_ I know I do. _

_ But of course I can’t speak of this. I need to be careful, keep myself constantly on check so I won’t slip. It would be fatal; the end of our relationship. And I would rather have my daydreams and his constant presence than faded memories and him gone. _

_ It’s hellish. _

_ (Isn’t that ironic?) _

***

A week later, Crowley is seething.

He’s being reading the diary in whatever spare time he finds. He doesn’t have much, to be honest, between breakfast/lunch/dinner with Aziraphale, feeding the ducks with Aziraphale, getting drunk with Aziraphale and just generally spending time with Aziraphale, he’s rarely on his own, so he can barely read more than a couple of paragraphs per day.

But they’re more than enough.

The diary started innocent enough. Just simple recalls of random events that the angel felt were important enough. But then turned into something else entirely, as the dates came closer and closer to the present, a certain someone started to make a constant appearance in Aziraphale’s diary.

It seems the angel has developed a sort of crush on someone. A mysterious  **_C_ ** \- fellow. Crowley hates not knowing who has captured the angel’s attention; he hates that someone has manage to capture the angel’s interest at all. That’s not supposed to happen. Aziraphale is an angel and therefore above silly things like  _ crushes. _

Only he isn’t, apparently, if his long ramblings about this **_C_** person are anything to go by.

Long descriptions of apparently meaningless encounters make Crowley simmer with rage. It’s ridiculous, he knows, he has no right to feel like this at all, but he can’t help himself. He hates how waxily poetical the angel can go about how lovely dinner was with this mysterious  **_C_ ** , or how lovely his eyes are, or how interesting his conversation is…

Crowley hates this  **_C_ ** fellow.

***

_ I worry for I’ve stopped thinking of holding hands and innocent kisses. My daydreams have turned into something else entirely; I’m afraid I losing myself to honest and simple desire. I dream of heated glances and even more heated kisses. I dream of hands roaming all over my body, tugging, gripping. I dream of things that I shouldn’t, because ethereal beings as myself aren’t supposed to have this urges. _

_ But I wonder, is it that bad really? _

***

Two weeks later, it gets even worse.

The innocent ramblings have turned into something else entirely. The description of simple interactions have turned into full blown fantasies that would make a lady from the 18th century faint. Crowley hates **_C_** with an even darker passion, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out who this man is or when does Aziraphale finds time to see him.

Although to be fair, he doesn’t know if Aziraphale is seeing him anymore. The diary has turned more into a safe space to write down fantasies than as an accurate relation of the going ons in the angel’s life. Besides, Crowley has had the diary in his possession for 2 weeks, so of course Aziraphale hasn’t been able to write down anything in awhile.

He knows he ought to stop. Not only because he’s deliberately invideing Aziraphale’s privacy, but also because his heart* might not be able to take it anymore. But he knows he won’t; torturing at it is, he wants to know more about this mysterious man that not only captured Aziraphale’s attention, but has also apparently managed to make him  _ want _ .

It’s pointless and it’ll only hurt him in the long run, but Crowley has never claimed he’s not a masochist.

***

_ I had a dream last night. Isn’t it funny? I’m not even supposed to sleep and yet- _

_ I dreamt of C, of course. He had me pressed against the wall, his grip thight on my hips, efectively pinning me. His lips over mine, hungry, demanding. His eyes dark with desire, the evidence of his arousal against my stomach. _

_ It felt- it felt so real. _

_ We took each other’s clothes quickly, carelessly. It was all passion and desire and pent up frustration that had me wondering, when I woke up, if it would be like that in real life. If it ever came to it, of course. _

_ I know I delude myself into thinking there’s a chance. There probably isn’t. Still, does it hurt to dream, to fantasize? _

_ I think not, so I indulge. _

***

Three weeks later, Crowley is certain HE’s going to faint.

The fantasies get even more descriptive; something out of actual erotic literature. Most people would get hot and bothered after reading such  _ filthy  _ material and just how exactly has the angel managed to write this down?

Against what humans seems to think nowadays, sex isn’t something quite sinful. Sure, lust is one of the deadly seven sins, but  _ wanting  _ someone, no matter how ardent the desire, doesn’t necessarily qualifies as lust. Aziraphale’s fantasies certainly don’t qualify as such, because beneath it all, you can see that the angel truly cares for this person.

It’s awful, really.

It’s everything Crowley has ever wanted and has never allowed himself to think about.

And the angel feels it towards someone else.

***

_ Fulfillness. Completion. I dream of that constantly.  _

_ I know I’m probably just hurting myself, allowing this fantasies to take hold of me. I tell myself to stop pretending it could ever be like this, that things could ever go the way I envision them. That I’m just a foolish romantic and that my daydreams are nothing but that. _

_ Still- _

_ I see him and I feel fire filling my veins. My breath catches, my heart skips a beat. Which is ridiculous, impossible, illogical. I’m an angel, not a human, I don’t feel like this. I can’t feel like this. _

_ But then why do I do? _

***

A month later, Crowley can’t take it anymore.

He storms into the bookshop, looking murderous. Aziraphale barely looks up from the book he’s currently reading, a benevolent smile on his lips.

“Do close the door, my dear. It’s awfully chilly out there.”

Crowley slams the door closed and Aziraphale does really look at him them, a slight frown on his face. “My dear, what’s-?”

“Who is he?!” the demon demands, well aware he has no right to demand any sort of answer, but incapable of holding himself back.

Aziraphale stares at him in confusion for a beat. Realization comes to him soon enough and then he smirks triumphantly. “Took you long enough, don’t you think?”

Crowley feels like wiping the smug smirk off his face. If he wants to do that by punching him or kissing him is still unclear though. “What do you mean?”

His friend rolls his eyes dramatically. “Really dear, you can’t be this dense.” He says, coming around the counter to stand right in front of the demon. “Really?” he asks again, since Crowley continues staring at him expectantly.

Before Crowley can come up with an appropriate response, Aziraphale is kissing him. Which, unexpected as it is, it’s also quite nice so he doesn’t pull away, even if his brain is screaming this doesn’t make even a tiny bit of sense.

But he’s not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth and all that, so he just goes with it.

***

“So, who is this  **_C_ ** person?”

Aziraphale breaks down in laughter, making the demon frown. The angel continues laughing for a while, before he calmly replies, “you really haven’t figure it out?”

Crowley’s frown deepens. Aziraphale breaks into giggles once more. “It’s you Crowley. Really, how could you not-”

But the demon is no longer listening. The pieces are slowly falling into their places and it’s just so obvious now. “Oh” he whispers, his face breaking into a big grin. “Well, you could have said something.”

“I left you my diary. I think that was telling enough?”

Crowley only laughs.

 

*Which allegedly shouldn’t exist at all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone? Smut is really, really, not my forte, so I might have not make justice to the prompt, but I did enjoy working on it (I mean, seriously, misunderstandings/jealousy/pining? I love this tropes!)  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
